Counter Movements
by missthneed
Summary: Craig is madly in love and madly in bliss.
1. Chapter 1

They both had heterochromia.

Craig had not noticed until somebody pointed it out. It just had never mattered to him. Eyes were eyes. They were necessary to look out of but not exactly important to look at. Kids didn't usually pay attention to details but Clyde was no ordinary kid. Nothing went by his carefully protected (and well fed) face. Spinning around on a merry-go-round at age ten, he had been very adamant in letting Craig and Tweek know.

"You both have brown eyes, you know?" They were talking about the latest Super Mario game. This wasn't even relevant. Then again, Clyde never really was one to keep up with the program.

"A brown eye," Token had corrected. "They each have a brown eye." Clyde rolled his own brown eyes.

"Well yeah. I guess."

"No guessin'. They do."

And Craig and Tweek had exchanged a look not too different than the ones shared between the leading lady and hero.

Craig wasn't sure which he was. He hated being the hero, too much work, too many bad memories of Peru. Being the leading lady meant Tweek could do whatever he wanted to him. Even at the delicate age of ten this was an enticing thought. Of course he considered all the hand-holding possibilities and hugs. So many hugs. Could hugs kill? His would, there'd be so many.

Craig Tucker looked into Tweek's eyes, one brown and one green. Tweek looked back into Craig's, one brown and one blue. Time rolled into a still. Their pupils beheld each other and the world stopped. Minds crashed together. What Tweek thought in that moment of utter immersion Craig didn't find out until far later. But that detail wasn't important. Nothing else was important but the colors of those mismatched eyes.

The chullo kid on the merry-go-round made up his mind in that moment, and he only knew one thing: he was going to be that beautiful, coffee-drinking mess's boyfriend even if it killed him.

For the next seven years, there were flourishes of a heart beating, yearning, sobbing for closure on a crush that could never be put into play. All because of some stupid eye fixation.

That had certainly made things awkward.

Why had it been brought up? What kind of sick joke was it? How was Craig still friends with Clyde? This and so many other awful questions were all Craig had to look forward to. Eighty-four months of sitting next to Tweek, with the constant urge to breach contact continually ebbing away at the front of his brain over the heart tugs, did things to a guy.

There was often full nights of staring at his guinea pig's cage and contemplating life. There were weekends reserved for sulking. There were sleepovers attended where Tweek would talk his ear off about all the ways people could die. Because he didn't want to die that way, oh no sir. There was puberty hitting harder because suddenly, it wasn't just hand-holding and hugs. There were other places to put hands.

Places that made Craig's fingers just twitch in the middle of class. He blessed his curse of a permanent poker face for every instance his body involuntarily itched and jerked. Looking blank on the outside had certain benefits.

Seven long, aching years Craig had lasted. How he did it, he didn't dare ask. He'd jinx himself.

On the possible anniversary of the worst day of his life, Craig got a chance. The walls of stress opened up and a ruby red path lead him to his golden opportunity.

Heidi Turner was throwing a party.

Heidi Turner was always throwing parties, mainly when Bebe wasn't throwing them. Nothing new there. Except she was telling Token about it when Craig walked by to get into his locker. Token who, in turn, told Craig about it. Craig was perplexed. Astounded.

Excited.

Heidi liked it wild. She liked everyone crammed into her shitty little home.

She liked guests to bring guests.

Craig was a guest.

He had someone he could bring as a guest.

The same someone he always brought when he got invited to parties, which was all the time. (Too many flirty teenagers coming after the mysterious and dark chullo-clad kid. Like he wanted their sorry asses.) The guy who immediately jumped on board when Craig asked him.

And he wasn't surprised.

Tweek always said yes.

* * *

"We'd be the aliens."

"Yeah?"

"And they'd be... shit. Something."

Craig hadn't even started drinking yet. If he could find any alcohol not scooped up by reckless teens. He wasn't going to be being anything but sober tonight.

Tweek never drank at parties. The scare of open containers from freshmen year just stuck. Sometimes he brought his own water bottle. Sometimes he just stayed thirsty the entire night. Right now he was drinking water.

Together they were laying on a trampoline, staring at the stars. Sometime around eleven, everyone had cleared away. There was a competition going on inside. Maybe someone was fighting. Either way, it was Clyde getting involved as always and Token was no doubt in there right now rooting him on. Everyone had since left the backyard but them. Stargazing and spouting nonsense about life on other planets, something Craig was more than happy to ramble on about. The whole spaceman obsession and a short-lived dream to become an astronaut was something that was ever-present in his mind. Like a post-it note slapped onto the back of his brain and the adhesive had never worn off.

Tweek was close. Closer than usual. He liked to curl and lean all over those deemed worthy of coming into direct contact with him. Which were very few and far between.

Like Craig, who was moving closer. He practically had Tweek tucked into his chest. Things were going great. Maybe things could go greater.

"They're out there though," he said, extending a finger. "Probably around... there." A dainty flash in the sky was picked. "See, they're just waiting to come down."

"Y-You think they'll a-a-attack us?" Craig could feel his friend's tremors against his skin. His stomach lurched. Tweek wasn't done though, he never was. Craig could try and not to throw up that easily. "B-Bug-eyed fucked up Martians gonna beam down l-like in that movie. A-And they're just gonna fuck u-us up. J-Just fuck us up and use our b-b-brains as harvest for the overlord mother. J-Jesus, we'd be so fucked."

"Say fuck again."

"W-We would, man."

Craig took a deep breath. The weight on his chest shifted and rose. Tweek really was too close. So far neither of them minded. That was good leverage to see how much further this could be taken. How long had they been out here, thirty minutes, an hour? Long enough to be comfortable. They were always comfortable.

He started brushing the fuzzy blond hair back. It would escape his fingers. Be pulled back up. Dropped. With very little thought, he kept this up. With even less thought, he decided it was late and he was at a party and he could pretend he was remotely drunk for a moment. Indulgences were allowed. Things were getting mushy fast. Time to turn that up to eleven.

"Hey."

"Hm."

That wasn't helping the butterflies at all. Tweek took a long sip of water. Craig watched his adam's apple bob with the gulp. Eyes were closed. He enjoyed having his hair touched, which Craig had more than enough time to figure out by now. Evenings sometimes were just fingers in hair, stroking it, petting it, making him feel alive and safe and-

Definitely not helping. None of this was helping. He needed to just... spit it out before nerves took him over for the thousandth time.

"Do you like me?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tweek said. He tucked his water bottle into his chest. The fingers in hair were all he cared for.

Craig got on his elbows, knocking the other boy right off him. On accident of course. It simply switched their positions, Tweek pulling his knees to his own chest in the cold spring air. The conversation died into a dull silence again. That wasn't allowed. He needed answers.

"No like, like me?"

"Like like you?" Tweek peered over, confused. Freckled cheeks were flustered from the chill, eyes so bright they could lead a ship to shore. A tinge of heat came to Craig's cheeks. Was he asking out of confusion? Or shock? Or disbelief? Crap, he had to answer this. Tweek was looking more worried by the second-or was that his imagination?

His poker face was decaying. The first time in years he could feel the heat seeping through his skin, flooding his cheeks in seconds. It took seconds for him to break down seven years worth of composure. Because those eyes-the eyes of legend!-were looking right at him, alight with curiosity. He could only just resist the urge to put an arm over his burning face, wanting to roll off the trampoline and underneath it, where he could claw himself a tunnel exactly twenty miles underground where he would proceed to die in shame. Or maybe wait it out a little longer and pull himself back together and resurface as the stoic Craig Tucker everybody was accustomed to.

"Like..." He scratched his head. Realized there was a hat there. He adjusted his hat. The words were sticking to the roof of his mouth. A tight tug to his hat seemed to peel them off. "If I said I have a-" Ugh, this sounded so mushy. Gushy. Not Like Him. He should be ashamed of himself. "-crush. On you. And if you might. Have something going on. In there. Like a crush." It took great strength not to look away, after spitting those words out in such unsteady matrimony. This wasn't how gushy was supposed to sound.

Luckily he didn't.

Once the jarring inquisition had registered in Tweek's mind, everything seemed to speed up. That nervous frown morphed into a wide grin. Tweek brightened. Craig fell backwards as wiry arms practically attacked him. For a moment, they just bounced on the trampoline, a face buried in Craig's neck and messy blond hair tickling his cheek. The rest of the world took a step to the sidelines and cheered them on. Cheered Craig on. Craig's face remained red and his heart was going to burst through his ribs. Tweek had to be listening to it. Everyone in the world had a front row seat to this dork making a fool of himself at Heidi Turner's cool weekend party. Tweek was making a cutie out of himself.

"Dude-"

"I-I didn't want to say anything," Tweek finally got out. His death grip was released. He hovered over Craig, looking twice as beautiful with the glow of the moon behind his head. Craig wanted to start blurting romance crap out. He bit his tongue. Go on, you gorgeous coffee disaster. "L-Like of fucking course. You wouldn't-but you do-Right?" Spidery fingers pulled at his blond locks. "I-I mean yeah-Can you like your b-best friend? I like you, man. A-A lot. T-Too much for my own good." He laughed nervously.

This was too precious.

The object of seven years of yearning was being absolutely adorable over the realization.

Craig wasn't sure if he should kiss him, hug him, or sit there awkwardly. He went with a fourth option.

Tweek's chill flusters were joined by a real blush, making the freckles everywhere just POP . Craig was cupping his face, of course he was blushing. Neither knew when this had ever happened. Face touching in general. One day he should really be on the receiving end. Craig should. His thoughts were scattering everywhere, trying to focus on Tweek only.

"I fucking love you, T-Tweek." Craig Tucker had actually stuttered. He had won this hand so he was allowed to lose the poker face. Utterly. It had been annihilated. "Like you have no idea."

Tweek clicked his tongue. This was a nervous tic never before seen. Deep regret took hold of the other's gut. Tic meanings weren't supposed to be lost on him.

What wasn't lost on him was Tweek closing the space between them.

What was definitely remembered was Tweek's chapped, bitten to hell lips pressed against his. Closure overwhelmed him. Craig could breathe in his scent, the cafe aroma of vanilla and coffee grounds. His warmth was like nothing he had ever experienced. This was so new. So refreshing. Glorious.

Exciting.

It broke with a giggle. Tweek was giggling against his mouth. Digging his face into Craig's neck again, he spoke the sounds, "I-I guess I love you too, Craig."

Stuttering was bad and unlike himself. But he didn't need to put himself aside to let the giggles on that followed. Because Craig could giggle over Tweek Tweak confessing to him. That was a thing he wanted to be a thing, always and forever.


	2. Chapter 2

The week after the Trampoline Confessionals, Craig Tucker spent a week resting. Laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Realization hit fast but his mind was playing catch-up. It knew he had kissed Tweek - been kissed by Tweek - on Friday but the actual thought that it had occurred didn't settle in 'til Monday.

Monday morning to be exact.

Rolling out of bed with brick feet and zipped shut eyelids, Craig heard a phone go off. His phone. A soft tune that only meant one person. The melodic opening made his heart skip head-first out the window and fingers snap around the phone so fast it broke the light barrier. This was nothing new, but being overly excited over a friend calling right now was something he hoped he could pass off as a side effect from being awake for about five minutes. He could text Tweek for hours. He had texted Tweek for hours in the past. It was amazing the beautiful nonsense that exploded from the guy. A simple hello could turn into a capslock dissertation about the birthing cycle of underpants gnomes. He expected an update on the baby gnomes soon.

_I missed you yesterday, man._

His heart choked him. Veins ripped out of his arms and strangled him, shaking him for daring to forget. That he had somebody to talk to. Somebody to focus on besides sulking in his room wondering about things that had totally and completely happened.

Craig Tucker had a boyfriend.

A boyfriend named Tweek Tweak.

_i was busy sorry_

Sending had been a struggle. Seeing Tweek is typing... at the top of the screen was enough to melt him. Receiving a message back made Craig's face explode in warmth. He put his phone down and held his face for God knows how long. It scorched his palms. It made his eyes burn up. He didn't even know what Tweek had written back but he was an utter mess. There was no emotional wall or blank poker face keeping him together. Both of those are been gutted out the moment the heterochromic duo had gazed into each other's eyes.

Craig wanted to drown in his emotions. He was embarrassed and nervous and overjoyed and giggling like a six-year-old. And he was just now checking his boyfriend's- his boyfriend's -text.

_Don't worry! I had work. We can talk at school-or later? If that's cool?_

What a lame conversation. What a bare minimum of things to get giggly over. Yet here Craig was smiling ear-to-ear and falling back on his bed, texting back as fast as his fingers would allow, _i always have time to talk dude just tell me when. _

He sent it. He tucked his face back into his hands. This time he decided he needed to hide his happy face from some unknown force out there in the world, watching teenage boys get excited over nothing.

Every night after, Craig Tucker would look at the ceiling. He would contemplate his place in the universe, how he ended up here, how life had came to exist for him. After deep thoughts had ran their course, he would bite his lips so hard he thought his braces were going to spilt them in half. Because he was trying not to laugh so loud. Because he was trying not to smile so brightly. His cheeks hurt enough from the emotional misconduct. He was a complete stranger to the full spectrum of human feelings. Nothing brought a guy to laugh quite like dating, it seemed.

Tweek wasn't.

Over that first week and the following months, he made it very clear he knew how to handle his emotions. Somebody in the relationship had to.

Soft smiles and drifting fingers made up school lunch breaks, sitting in the courtyard at their usual spot but it was different. Token, Clyde, and Jimmy would talk but it was distant. Like Craig couldn't focus on them. They were certainly saying words and making gestures.

Token was certainly doing his homework.

Jimmy was certainly writing stand-up material.

Clyde was certainly trying to copy Token.

But it took a backseat.

All that mattered was the blond digging through his bagged lunch like Nicholas Cage searching for the Declaration of Independence. This look of determination furrowed his brows, wrinkled his nose. Finding the exact thing he wanted calmed his face. It brought about a soft smile. And this made Craig smile. Which made the other guys laugh and make jokes about getting a room.

Which he really wanted to. He wanted to be alone in a room with his vibrating boyfriend. He wanted to invite Tweek up to his bedroom and play Twister on his star-speckled bedsheets. But it was only a month into this dating game. Craig had been ready to jump for years. Creepy as it was, staring at the way Tweek bent and curved had kept him alive. He couldn't have made it far without those tight muscles and accented bones that peered through his sloppily buttoned shirts. Even when it was just a t-shirt, he would flail his arms and it would ride up and up, letting appear a soft stomach he wanted to lie his head on.

He also wanted to see Tweek's stomach contort as he moved between gasps.

He wanted that to happen soon. Now preferably.

But it'd been a month.

When two months hit, he told himself the same thing. It's just two months - no need to get excited, tight pants.

It was like a mantra. Hold out, buddy, he'll put out one day.

And boy did that day come.

It had to happen over text, just like everything important. Craig could hide his face when it was over text. The boy had lit up fifty shades of crimson when he got the news. It was so unexpected. It was 11:46 PM exactly. He wasn't about to forget because he had been spending all his nights thinking about it. The text was confirmation he wasn't alone.

_This is weird. And you're probably asleep._

Wrong. Like Craig could get any sleep with Tweek running through his mind. Next.

_Do you want to have sex?_

Craig's stomach dropped to his feet and his hands clenched tight on his iPhone, nails coming close to scratching the fragile screen. The pale white bubble surrounding the text was ominous, terrifying.

Exciting.

This was a test. Tweek wouldn't be so blunt. There was no way he was just super duper tired and texting out of sleepiness. It was only 11:48 PM. Tweek didn't start getting tired until 2. This was full force Tweek right now. Tweek was asking him for sex. That couldn't be real.

_what_

The stupidest text to send ever. Craig wasn't about to make excuses for it. Mister boyfriend took his sweet time responding, maybe thrown off by the utter idiot he was dating. It was a lot for anyone to handle.

_I don't really know how to be more blunt than that._

"Fuck," Craig actually said. He rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers and planetary posters lit his shock up. Holding his phone to his face, he considered all the possibilities. This could still be a test, which he was about to fail miserably. Maybe Tweek really was just tired - but then that meant he was so tired he wouldn't mind a bone. What if this wasn't even Tweek but some stranger? With the exact same number, ringtone, and picture as Tweek's.

He was overthinking it. He was going off on a tangent similar to his boyfriend's. (He had to hear that again. **His boyfriend's **.) Just answer the question, Tucker.

Thumbs twitched over the screen, hesitantly.

_sure_

* * *

Two months, three days, and five hours after staring at the stars and confessing, Craig Tucker was taking off his jacket and setting it on Tweek's bedpost with the gentle fingers any fairy would be jealous of.

Never before had the smell of the blond's room made him feel so alive. Even in the best of lights, it was dim, coated in dreary shades and well-organized surfaces. Everything was where it was meant to be. It let the scents roll around it with more ease. It made him crave coffee and a nice walk on a beach and also the blond in question.

Here on this very bed they'd make blanket forts and told each other scary stories, ones Tweek got so worked up over Craig left the next day with a black eye. They'd stayed up late for days watching for underpants gnomes. So much nostalgia was built into this double-sized, neatly tucked bed. And now the boys were undressing. Undressing and about to curl up on top of each other.

Craig glanced back.

Tweek was on his back, trying to undo his shirt. Unsuccessfully. How the boy had gotten his cardigan off was an utter mystery. They were supposed to be doing this together. Slowly and united. Tweek was getting ahead of himself and Craig had to grab his hands to still him.

"I got it."

Tweek lied back, perpetual worriment on his face. Far carefuller digits popped buttons out on a periwinkle dress shirt, laying it back against shockingly thin shoulders.

This was a new sight. Tweek never was stark or nude. He was never too revealing, even with his riding t-shirts and poorly buttoned clothing. When he noticed, he fixed it. He couldn't fix this and a look like he was all too aware crossed his face. Freckles were lighting up. Bright eyes were a flush of two vastly different colors. Even his hair seemed to stand up, pressed around the pillows beneath.

Craig couldn't imagine how he looked.

The hoverer sat his palm on Tweek's raising, falling, stilling chest. It stilled with the hand against it. He was holding his breath. Eyes darted up.

"Dude, chill out," Craig muttered. He moved his hand so it curled around his cheek. That felt like it belonged. But it couldn't stay - Craig was still dressed up. Not counting those jeans that were holding them both back but those weren't important at the moment. One layer at a time. He yanked his green shirt off, hair going wild as it left. If he ran a hand through it, the look would be complete: wild, black, fluffy, and out of control. Sex hair if there had ever been any. Things were going to look awful when this was over.

"So what no-"

Craig's voice caught in his throat. A tongue went flush against his neck, arms going around, and this had started. Tweek making all these first moves was fine by him. Less decision making. Less nerve-wrecking stalling. Just his body shuddering because it was being touched sensually. Tweek was touching him sensually. The tongue was replaced by lips, ones that sucked and peppered kisses he had been barely getting used to on his face. The wrapped arms were down tugging at his jeans.

This boy worked fast for someone so nervous.

Maybe that was his body's reaction. Not a bad one given others. Somewhere in the back of Craig's mind was the worry that Tweek's motor tics would make a guest appearance in the heat of the moment, the potential outcome being injury.

Craig unzipped his pants quickly and then he was helping Tweek out of his so they were left in nothing but the slipping dress shirt. Pressing back down on him, Craig made sure those lips were on his mouth. This was more familiar. Sharing kisses. The roaming hands were bringing them up to speed with the new sensations.

A butterfly gust was building up. He hadn't felt one since the trampoline. They had finally died...or so he thought. When the butterflies started, he wanted to throw up and he couldn't throw up when he was sucking on his fingers, fingers that hooked into Tweek. Tweek whose jagged teeth snapped down on his already broken lips. There were bright red, scars from nervous picking prominent. Tonight was not the night for them to be reopened.

Craig consumed them again, an obvious release of tension leaving his boyfriend.

"Relax, dude," he whispered against him.

"I-I am. Jesus." His tongue traced cuts and scars and Craig couldn't help take them again. A nice deep kiss, one that made his mind spin because it was a dual effort and he was popping his fingers out slowly, curling them around pale thighs also coated in freckles. Where weren't there freckles on the boy's body? They covered every glorious inch like stars in the sky. Tweek was a galaxy, one of emotions and wonders. Untamed and spiraling through the universe, trembling at every touch now. All that confidence had gone. That or he was too deep into arousal to want to move.

Craig could pick up the pace.

The seconds seemed to stretch to minutes as they held their breath, the taller boy easing in, grasping tighter to those milky thighs. A pained squeak sounded - he stopped.

Tweek's eyes were closed, arms tight back at Craig's neck. He looked blissful yet full of consuming fear. So many tiny details were filling up the moments Craig watched him heaving beneath. Tweek was too fragile and tiny and sensitive and Craig was feeling regret and guilt. "D-Dude?"

It only died when green and brown gazed up. A soft voice, unharmed by jitters or quakes, whispering, "I'm ready."

Never had Tweek sounded so calm. Not when they were kids, not when they were alone on sleepovers, not when they had been alone on dates the last two months. Total warmth was exploding from him into a soft core. Tweek was softening while Craig was softening. The teenagers were adjusting and Craig smiled bright.

It broke out a meek smile from Tweek, one that got more confident as they started. As Craig started. He swayed gently, keeping focus on the blond's face. Their eyes were locked with the thrusts. They were absorbed in each other's presence. They were conjoined and rocking against the space sheets at a quickening pace. Both boys were biting their lips. Holding back any sounds in the curve of their throats. There wasn't even a reason. The sound of the mattress and a fan buzzing was all they wanted.

They settled into themselves. The quiet was still everywhere but why fix something that's not broken? Heaven was basking in their glow as it stood.

Fuzzy blond hair tickled Craig's cheeks as Tweek dug his face into the crook of his neck. He couldn't help it-snickers left him. From the tickling sensation and the restrained sounds rolling up. It was that night all over again, with the giggles not stopping. Flowing out endlessly.

They got worse as Tweek said something he couldn't even take seriously, despite how much he needed to. It sounded serious. Spoken through a gasped breath, like it was strained; "I want you inside me forever, Craig Tucker." It was words straight from a gushy movie, like the ones Craig couldn't stand. The ones Tweek seemed to soak up, if he were speaking like that to him. Cute words that Craig was giggling at because they were coming from his cute boyfriend who was sighing blissfully into his ear now. His cute boyfriend that felt like he belonged around him and under him. He watched the way his skin rolled over his bones, warm to the point of sticking to the sheets at this point in time, tight, snug.

Craig shuddered. Pits of heat in his stomach were making him feel light-headed. Cold. His body was tingling and he went to pull out but was stopped.

Tweek bit him.

Craig smashed his face into a pillow, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream.

Tweek bit him _hard. _

His body tensed as teeth dug into his neck, jagged and sharp and _right in his skin. _Pulses of blood were running to his groin and his throbbing neck. Tears weren't just catching. He felt them fall down his face as he fisted the pillow and the soft flesh of Tweek's thighs. He didn't even consider if his nails broke skin because Tweek was fucking _puncturing _him. It felt like a chunk was being ripped out of his neck, sparking every nerve in his body into momentary overdrive.

The shock faded, and immense pain washed over him. Caked over by the waves of his orgasm, though, it felt almost serene. He cried into the pillow, feeling teeth sink deeper as he filled his boyfriend. With the way he tightened around him, Craig guessed the intensity was mutually exclusive. Minus the whole losing a worrying amount of blood from your jugular bit. It was the most amazing yet at the same time terrifying orgasm of Craig's life.

The night had taken a turn for the worst so fast. And it didn't stop there. Tweek seemed to fall back into the same reality as Craig again when he fell back against the bed. "Sorry." He was saying it so fast and so much, in such an apologetic tone as he hauled through the aftermath of his climax. As he heaved through teeth and lips drenched in Craig's blood.

The boy's neck burned and he was trying not to cry anymore and just focus on the amazing feeling behind the horrifying pain. Tweek sounded awful, and he could start crying at any moment too. J_ust face it like a man, Craig. It's just a shit-load of blood oozing from your neck! _ Jesus, he could feel it. Warm and dripping down the side. Where Tweek's teeth had been were scarred into his emotions.

"I-It's fine. It's fine," he said, repeating until he could steady his voice. Nothing was fine. He felt like shit. He couldn't even enjoy the fact he'd just came inside Tweek Tweak of all people...who just licked his blood from his teeth. "G-Gross."

Tweek started giggling. "S-Sorry-Jesus, it was a reaction. God, that's embarrassing."

"V-Very." Craig pulled out, rolling over so he was next to Tweek. He rubbed at his red eyes. Keeping from crying was hard. But he had to push through for Tweek's sake. The dumbass hadn't meant to severely injury his boyfriend during their first time. The boy was tired and confused and rolling over too, cuddling into Craig's chest. Eyes looked dreary, mouth still dotted in crimson. He looked so disheveled and broken up. Chunks from the neck were nothing compared to having a foreign object prodding into you, Craig guessed.

Tweek needed to sleep for sure. If he was biting people. They both needed to sleep, even if Craig has other matters he dearly needed to take care of. Tweek hadn't even given a warning. He was closing his eyes and knocking out fast. Worn down beyond belief no doubt.

The sharp pain was dulling down, feeling almost numb now. Craig could sleep on that. Germs weren't that fast, right? He would have asked Tweek if he wasn't asleep. If he wasn't too, feeling drowsy. So many forces were working against him: blood loss, not wanting to stay awake without his boyfriend, muscle pains in his hips.

Nature was looking him in the eye and daring him not to sleep. But he wasn't brave enough to answer that call. Heavy eyelids overtook the boy. He was almost even faster than Tweek.

* * *

Craig Tucker had a vague dream, one that came to him in chops and still-frames. Coming back into fuzzy reality, laying naked in Tweek's room, he tried stitching them together.

There was a figure looming over him, pale in night's lights. Not inky as any other nightmare creature would be expected to look. It was pressing something into his mouth, shoving something into his mouth. Vomit was catching in his throat when he was made to dry swallow whatever it was dream him choked on and it was oh so real when his tongue was sticking to his teeth and he had no saliva left to give it life. A dull pain in his neck, like a thin prick in the center of his cool new bitemark. New and overwhelming panic and then... sleepiness. Being tired in a dream had to mean something.

He would ask somebody later. He didn't rightfully give a crap right now.

All Craig cared about was sitting at the edge of the double-sized bed with a blond mess comfortably wearing a large blue hoodie. Despite the new pains of the deep teeth embedded into his neck and the thigh sores, Craig crawled towards the blob of yellow and blue in the dim morning beams seeping in through the blends. He couldn't see much until he was closer. Craig wrapped his dark arms around the paler boy, nuzzling in close to him. All he wanted was Tweek's scent in his face and his being smothered into Tweek's. They needed to be next to each other. They needed to never leave each other. The boys could stay in this nice room all day. All week. All year. For the rest of their lives.

Craig never wanted to leave Tweek's side again.

"What's that?" he said, placing a chaste kiss on Tweek's cheek. There was a coffee mug filled to the brim in the blond's hands. Of course he would already be up and ready for the day.

Tweek turned, face dotted with flusters. The serenity on his face made the butterflies in the raven-haired boy's stomach collectively perform somersaults. They were getting stronger, those butterflies. It was a blessing they were the last of the insect line. Even the thought of any other bugs making his gut tingle and he'd puke.

"This," Tweek started, holding the mug up, "is th-the new flavor we're trying. I wanted to test it out... with you. I-I thought you'd be a good test pilot."

"Fuck yes, dude." Craig grinned, braces flashing. "Let's see what you've got in store."

Tweek's dots came together in a continuous blush now. Giggles drifted briskly from him before he leaned the cup up. Craig tried to take a sip without burning his mouth. The wound on his neck was enough pain for now.

The coffee smelt the same as vanilla, the same he was used to the boy carrying everywhere. His favorite flavor. This was like vanilla. The scents and flavors mixed in Craig's mouth and he grimaced. "Tastes like...a penny drenched in milk."

Tweek full on laughed then. It took both of them by surprise, if the way he suddenly covered his mouth was any indication. Craig nearly choked on the coffee. "Penny m-milk-it's a WIP. W-Work i-in-"

"Progress. I know. I'm tired not dead."

"For now."

Craig rolled his eyes. "For now, dork." And he closed the space between them with a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't some well-kept secret that Tweek and Craig were dating.

Neither boy had gone out of his way to inform anyone. Sure they weren't PDA types. Sure when Craig's mom has asked if he was seeing anyone, he'd just flipped her off. This wasn't any less public, though. If anyone asked, it was true. They weren't denying.

So it was utterly shocking when, come the next morning, everyone was whispering, giggling, snorting. The air was thick with freshly spawned rumors the second Craig felt eyes on his neck. The mentions of horrific incidents caused by Tweek Tweak of all people was the flavor of the day. Saying mentions of hickies and said giant fucking bite mark in the side of a teen's neck were adrift was an understatement. A bite mark he had cleaned best he could. The only ignorance to the wonderful flitting glances was Token's ever-present concern. A certain maternal instinct broke through-not for the first time- and Token took Craig to the nurse's office to get his neck disinfected - apparently something that was useful the day after the affliction. "Mouths are a nasty place, Mr. Tucker." Yeah, yeah. He got it. He could die. Big whoop.

There was no chance of peace and quiet. Peace and quiet had packed their bags and left for Craig Tucker that day. Definitely stemming from the bite mark, which he kept getting questions about. People were asking for too much information way too fast. Where had they been the last two months? Did you need to drill it into someone's head you weren't single? Hand holding wasn't enough anymore?

Even by Tweek's locker, in the far wing, helping him pack his bag without dropping everything in a mess of papers and pencils and coffee, there was something. In the air of finally getting a bit of space, there was now something. A somebody. A not too tall, not too short somebody. Somebody who hadn't had the miraculous growth spurt that Craig used almost every day to empower himself, whether it be in front of the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning or not, it still counted. Flecks of dingy blond hair and a torn up parka that'd been through so much abuse it was borderline patchwork by this stage. The distinct smell only years of practice in substance abuse could accomplish.

"Oh my God, Craig Tucker," came a coughing voice and they both knew who it was. Or, well, Craig knew. He was rolling his eyes at the name. Not this shit today. Not this shit from Kenny McCormick, already wrapping his arms around Tweek, who yelped. "And I thought I had called first dibs on lil' coffee break." A drawn-out look of betrayal crossed his dirty face. One somewhere between anxiety and anger was crossing the blond in his arms.

Even someone as bad at reading people as Craig felt the race of tensions. "Well he picked me. You're shit out of luck man." He peeled Kenny's arms off, just to have them draped around his own waist.

"I'll have to take you instead." Soft words were right in his neck. Thank god it wasn't the bite's side.

Eyes rolled back again. These arms couldn't be pulled off so easily. Kenny was glue. Luckily, Craig was rubber. "I can't date a rodent, McCormick."

"I'm just a very hairy person, Craig."

"I don't support bestiality."

"We're all mammals."

"I'm not. I'm a god. I can't fraternize with mere mortals."

Craig shivered as Kenny blew on his ear. "I'm the son of a eldritch being, son. Let's get frisky." Jesus, could he ever give u-

"That's enough."

Even Craig had been caught off guard. A steady, careful voice had told off the stick in the overflowing parka. Tweek's twitchy fingers balled in small fists by his thin frame when they looked over, mouth still open from speaking. The still from his chest not raising at all made his boyfriend feel with concern. Was he about to panic? Was there a panic attack on the horizon? Now, in the middle of school?

His mismatched eyes were glaring. Craig felt Kenny move.

"Don't wanna unleash the wrath of the titan," said the blond. He quickly placed a sloppy kiss on the other boy's cheek and left. Walking by Tweek, he ruffled his hair. "Stay alive, you two." And like that, he was gone. Like a ghost. Like a whisper. The power of McCormick.

Craig picked up Tweek's overturned bag. Pencils and books toppled over the checkered floors. It was a wonder somebody so frail and tiny could handle the weight - it had to weigh a ton. A ton of useless crap lugged around for useless classes, useless time wasting, time better used for watching Red Racer with your boyfriend or canoodling at his place. Canoodling was fun. Even if it meant more bite marks.

A bell rang.

"Of course," the noirette breathed. "That's just the warning, though. We should get going." Throwing the heavy strap onto his shoulder, Craig stood. "Yeah?"

The twitchy teen was still staring forward, only barely focused. Craig could almost hear the cogs in the blond's head working behind his eyes. His body hadn't relaxed. His hands were grasping his uneven shirt hard enough to tear. His chest was unyielding.

Tweek wasn't breathing.

"Jesus, dude." Craig grabbed his pale, freckled cheeks. Staring into his face, eyes looked as if all the colors had been drained out of them. Colors were devoid. Scratches of green and brown. "Tweek?" He thumbed beneath one eye, trying to draw him back. "Tweek!"

That did it. Heavy air was blown in the boy's face. Tweek started breathing harshly, regaining the moments he had spaced out. Trembling fingers tightened around the hands on his cheeks.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine. Are we late to class?" The fingers pulled Craig away. They grabbed back the bag slipping off Craig's bony shoulders. Without hesitation, Tweek was leaving Craig behind and tripping over his unsteady legs in the process. Tweek was three-fourths leg, making for a spectacle of a loosely connected mess of uncooked spaghetti trying to walk. Fun to anyone watching. He jogged up to catch how fast the blond was leaving him.

"Dude, are you alright?" he asked. He put a hand on his shoulder and Tweek jumped, continuing to wobble his way down the hallway.

"Y-Yeah! Sorry - I-I'm just out of it." Tweek's voice was shaking more than he was. "We need to get to class. N-now."

"Sure, dude. Before we're-"

Another bell rang.

Craigs concerned expression dropped and both exchanged a look of pure anxiety. And ran.

* * *

"You didn't tell your own best friend?"

Car doors were shut nimbly. Clyde got fussy if they were shut too fast, too loud, too hard. Any other day and Craig would have slammed it the fuck shut just to annoy his friend more, but as he was already dealing with a needlessly high pitched voice whining, there was no need to agitate matters. Clyde was easily agitated. The chubby brunette was pulling full-out theatrics in the cramped parking lot. South Park Premium Outlet was standing tall and bold ahead and here he was, listening to a whining football player. If yesterday was the day to test his pain tolerance, this was the day to test his Donovan tolerance.

"What if I had a crush on you, Craig? I woulda been heartbroken!" Clyde fell against Craig.

Craig fell into Token, who very nearly was crushed by the combined force of him, Tweek on his arm, and Clyde's abundant weight. "Guys! My mom told me not to come home looking like a pancake."

"S-S-S-Should've thought of th-that before inviting D-Donotown."

"Shut up, Jimmy."

"Thank you, fellas."

"Ugh." Craig steadied himself, Tweek gripping tight enough to cut off the circulation in his entire arm. He hadn't said much on the trip. Certainly a difference compared to constant ramblings about the dangers of vehicles and mutterings of how Clyde was an unsafe driver and why was that dog's head just sticking out of that window. Utter silence was... worrisome. Craig was worried. But asking Tweek about his mental state in front of this comedy assemble was the exact opposite of a bright idea.

He shouldn't have agreed to go out with them.

The couple could have been smooching to cartoons already. Now they were walking past overpriced stores and food carts. Nobody could cuddle to this. Not the cold air. Not the Katy Perry over the speakers. Clyde maybe. But he was busy not letting things go.

He was leaning all over Token. Yet another dramatic sigh went off. "Not even a text. Is this what it feels like to break-up?"

"You w-w-wood...w-w-would know."

"Know what?"

Craig's shoulders fell. Somebody was using him as an arm rest, somebody leaning into his neck. Tweek glanced up from his arm. The squeeze tightened.

Smiling bright, Kenny sighed into Craig. "Baby, you don't call me anymore. I thought we had something special."

Craig chose to ignore. His arm was about to fall off and now there was a trailer park reject climbing all over him, breathing down his neck like it was giving life to his long-lost lover. Which they weren't. Not even a fling. Despite what Kenny was laying down.

Tweek was not ignoring. The boy in the chullo could see the anger in his thick twitching eyebrows, trying not to look up too high and make it obvious.

He considered it.

There was history between literally everyone and Kenny McCormick in South Park, whether sexual or innocent. It was unavoidable. He was unavoidable. He was rambling on about all the good times they had clearly shared. Good times Craig apparently had enjoyed. Okay. That didn't explain why Tweek was being so touchy-feely around him. There couldn't... No.

No way in God's golden pastures was there history between the two of them. Or well. Everyone had history but -

Not that kind of history.

Nobody gave glares like that unless it was _that _kind of history. It just didn't seem possible.

Tweek and Kenny made no sense.

Craig shook the thoughts from his head, feeling a tug on both his arms.

Tweek got noticed first.

The taller blond was giving a small, barely noticeable tug on Craig's numb limb. Head jerked lightly turned towards the closest Harbucks.

The shorter blond was giving a much more noticeable pull and whining about "my long-lost lover. I swore myself to you Craig. This is how you repay me."

"Craig Tucker, now you have two love-lorn boys on your hands," Token chuckled. Clyde was looking grumpy on his arms, though far more falsely now. "I can't help with...that one." Kenny smiled, a spot for a missing tooth very prominent. "But I'll take this dinosaur to get his taco fix."

The droopy frown pulled into a semi-smile on said dinosaur's face. It started growing as Token took him away, Jimmy following close behind. There was a crack about churros and the three started laughing. Nice. They were about to have a fun time and here Craig was, in the middle of a blond sandwich.

The twitch and the perv.

Five minutes into the amazingly long line at Harbucks and he was sure this was it. This was how he was going to die. Listening to Kenny recollecting imaginary dates. Feeling Tweek getting more quivery. He wouldn't be able to grab the order at this rate. Hands mugged down with the weight, one arm very nearly about to die. Or snap in half. Or die from snapping in half. He didn't care anymore. Maybe this is what parenting was like.

"D-Dude. I have to go."

Craig looked over in relief, but realized when he came back down to planet earth that it was Tweek who needed to go, not Kenny. "What?" he whispered.

"I have to pee," Tweek finished. His face looked drained. Clearly Craig had sounded too worried. The teen gulped down the ball of spit forming in his throat.

"Oh."

One arm was released. The wrong one. Tweek was only letting go of him when Kenny was tugging him away playfully. "I'll take the youngster to the restrooms, captain."

"C-Craig-"

"C-Craig," Kenny cooed. Craig could hear Tweek's teeth snap shut. Blond eyebrows furrowed. Craig felt a pit in his stomach drop.

Tweek stopped resisting and went along with Kenny. Not even a glance back, a pleading look for help. Blond heads disappeared around the corner, Craig left with his mouth agape. Mind was buzzing as he was finally called up to order. Bullshitting through three coffees had never been more difficult.

Even worse was sitting outside Harbucks for thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

30.

With three cooling coffees.

Nobody was answering their damn phone. Nobody was calling him. Craig was panicking. Feet were tapping repeatedly, heart racing faster as the seconds went by.

Where were they?

Had he been ditched? Fuck, he had. Kenny had wrung Tweek into ditching him and Clyde and the others were already driving home. There'd be a party. Fuck Tucker Internationals. Cake would be sliced. Illegal substances would be handed to underaged citizens. And Craig would be frozen in front of Harbucks, forced to walk home and get rid of all his friendships.

"Craig?"

He split the reminder of his french vanilla blend on his shirt. The noirette jumped to his feet and turned.

Looking disheveled and panicked as ever was Tweek Tweak, closing his left hand around his right wrist so hard every fingertip was touching.

"Oh my God, Tweek."

"H-Hey-"

Craig practically jumped the guy, wrapping his arms around him tight. Now who was the one being melodramatic? He pulled away as quick as possible, knowing Tweek's deal with public displays of affection and "people might get jealous and attack me" thing. It was stupid. It was lame. He wasn't denying it. But he was going to indulge his boyfriend for as long as possible. Hand holding and arm deathgrips were enough.

There was a dripping wetness on Tweek's chin now. He went to rub it away, knowing damn well that was his coffee mess. Tweek jerked, eyes blinking too fast. All color was going from his face.

"Where's Kenny, man? Did he ditch you?" Craig went on, ignoring the reaction. The PDAs were about to come to a close. He could relax and calm his jitters in Craig's arms somewhere else. Probably tell him all about the shit that parka drifter had pulled. Because he clearly had. Tweek was too freaked to have just. Not been ditched.

He'd gotten lost on the way back from the bathroom.

Of course.

"N-No."

Craig frowned. Why was he being lied to.

"We ran into K-Kyle and they had something to do. I-I didn't ask what but he took him a-and I just -"

"Walked back on your own." He could read through the sugarcoating.

"...Yeah." Tweek ran a tongue over his teeth. Oh that was too cute. That was Craig's thing. Tweek was doing Craig's thing. He tried not to giggle and smile and pull Tweek back into his arms. That could wait. No for now he could just. Pick that cold coffee up. Hand it to Tweek.

"You can have that dickhole's, man," Craig confirmed from the look of suspicion on the blond's face. "And I'll call his fellow dickwad supreme to get us."

"Mhm." Tweek's hand shook as he lifted one cup to his mouth, looking around with frantic eyes. Jesus, Kenny must've ditched him the second they left. It was about to storm and Tweek was about to thunder. And Craig was about to roar if the phone didn't get picked up fast enough.

Lions were about to rip out of his esophagus. Right out. If Clyde hadn't actually jumped on him, knocking him into the Harbucks window. "JESUS CHRIST, DONOVAN!"

"Lover boy didn't even miss me," the football player sighed, getting off of him and back on Token. Literally. How he did it was a mystery to God but Token had lifted Clyde to his back, piggyback in position ready to charge. Craig didn't ask. He'd had enough trouble for one night. No need for a Clyde's problems' encore .

"Wh-Wh-Where'd Ken...Ken...K-Kenny go?" Jimmy piped up, joining the group with bags around his crutches. Convenient.

"He ditched us."

"Shocker."

"I swear, it's like he comes out just to bother us -"

"He won't be bothering us any longer," Tweek mumbled, interrupting Token. The teen looked back, eyeing Tweek gulping down the rest of the drink in his shaky mitts.

Craig laughed. "He better not be."

"He will."

"Kenny McCormick, missing in action," Clyde said as if on a speaker.

"R-R-R-Reporting at two. F-Find that...that...that child." Jimmy made a BZZT sound, pretending to put a walkie talkie into his pocket.

Even Tweek laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the night had been vastly uneventful.

Even the jitters had been shut down by the late evening when Clyde's sparkling self-proclaimed pussy wagon was pulling into their driveway - Tweek's driveway. It was like new life had been breathed into Tweek since the mall incident. Either that or all the anxiety had been eased out of him through the conversations in the car. There was always a special kind of overly-casual air around four people who had known each other all their lives. Tweek was still a little shaky, as was mandatory, and managed to lose his footing while trying to exit the car as carefully as he could, and ended up sliding out of the doorway a lot closer to the ground than intended. Clyde only had to yell about scratches from peoples shoes to him once. Upon seeing this graceful stunt Craig decided to walk him the next ten feet from the car to his front porch. Good byes were shared, and Tweek's new-found liveliness showed itself by nearly pouncing on the lanky sweats-wearing idiot like they hadn't kissed in years. The kisses held no hesitation, and Craig mentally tried to shove the blame for the redness in his face onto standing out in the open air without a hat for longer than 5 minutes. A genuine smile was left on the blond's lips after, the chapped and scarred ones that held so many flaws- according to him.

"That was fun. Thanks."

Fun. He'd had to order and waste three beverages on his own. He'd been ditched alone in a crowd in public. He had nearly cried. The afternoon would have went better spent at home and lighting $15 on fire.

"Hey, no problemo." He tried to return the genuine smile. "Actually get some sleep tonight, dude."

"I'll try."

That was the second biggest lie Tweek had ever told Craig.

Craig decided this was an adequate answer and left. Not much thought went into texting and finding out if this was true, as Clyde and Token kept bothering him about Tweek and he really didn't have the energy to have layered thoughts at the moment. Once home, this still rung true. Craig collapsed onto his bed. Knocked out.

Didn't awaken until he was an hour late to class the next day.

When you're given a gift like this, the chance to show up whenever you decide since you're already late, you don't squander it. You take major advantage of it. You hope into your car and you buy Harbucks at nine am. You buy so much you need help getting it to your car.

It was now eleven am and Craig had finished two and a half drinks. The rest were for obvious patrons of his gang, a certain someone in it was going to be getting a lot after the day he had. Once Craig could be assed to get out of his burning car, parked right outside the courtyard without the slightest hint of care.

Motivation came in the form of seeing a familiar bundle of blond hair crossing the grass to sit in their usual spot. The weight of Harbucks in his hands combined with seeing the clusters of slaving students across the entire campus caused a flare of guilt to go off in his gut. Here he was having a lazy time out of school (like he cared about missing a single morning) and others were busy trying to stay conscious throughout the day. Tweek was a prime example of this, who came shuffling over in a way that would resemble a scared small animal.

Watching was a burden.

Craig was out of the car with the last few drinks very quickly, trying to catch up with the twitchy bastard who surely hadn't noticed him yet. From the utter silence inside, he guessed classes were still in. Tweek must've gotten out early. It was a common occurance, mostly due to his hypochondriacal tendancies.

What did matter was the look of delight that crossed Tweek's face when he was being joined by their tree. It doubled when he was handed three Harbucks drinks. Joined by spluttering "D-Dude!" Tweek went on to have a conversation with himself over what could have possibly happened to Craig in the past 3 hours.

"I thought you had died - and it wasn't me! I had no drinks and I left it all at home and now you're here - but where-where did you come from? Jesus, you can't just pop in like that - b-but you're here and-"

Craig put a finger to his lips.

Once Tweek was properly quieted, and Craig confirmed he was not in fact dead, they snuggled up against the old oak.

It was a blessing. The tree and the quiet.

Craig's boring day wasn't letting him pick up on any words. It was all just a high-pitched blur. Right now, for example, he had the vague feeling he was being spoken to by a bird. This bird who kept guzzling down a mess of flavors and whipped creams that had been melted into one big glob of calcium over the hours. Not advisably edible. But the bird was pecking away.

The lunch bell went off, confirming Craig's suspicions. Shouting and footsteps took little time to abolish the silence, followed by one figure opening out into the courtyard. One figure that caught the noirette's attention.

There was an air of gloom. A parka pulled over a head. A face pointed at the ground. Somebody was trying not to look over, as if there were an invisible repellant force between them and Craig. Craig wasn't having any of that when he damn well knew who that was, where they were going, and what they had done the previous night. Nobody was just getting away with that. Not when they looked so guilty about it and not when they were a punk ass kid who knew better than to even consider pulling a stunt like that, let alone go through with it.

"Yo, Kenny!"

The parka-clad figure froze.

Craig was about to follow up the call with a blasé remark about burning up in a parka on a day like this with a face like that but suddenly had to focus on an entire drink being spilled on his shirt, dripping down all over the front of his body. It was still so hot despite the hours of wait and burned as if this were a twisted game of Craig's chest is lava. He swore and started in a fruitless endeavor to try and scrub it with his shirt sleeve. "Tweek-Jesus. Dude!"

Nothing was getting through on the coffee addict's end. Only one drink was still in his hands. It only hovered there, held in place by paling, trembling fingers.

Tweek wasn't breathing again.

Bright eyes focused forward. Staring ahead, they were on a blanched face revealed in the light of day. More closely he considered why his boyfriend was about to pass out at the sight of him. The way they were looking at each other, you'd have thought they were staring at ghosts.

Kenny took a very obvious heaving intake, hands rubbing together nervously. Kenny was nervous. Kenny. Kenny McCormick, self proclaimed absolute stud of South Park. Looking at Tweek Tweak with the most damaged expression.

In turn Tweek had started breathing and dropped his final coffee in his lap. The boy was making a huge mess of things.

Kenny opened his mouth, maybe to breathe, maybe to speak. Either way nothing came out. All that occurred was one last fleeting look, and then the taller messy bastard about-faced and ran. Literally ran for the other court-side doors. He was gone as suddenly as he had arrived and Craig was left feeling nothing but confusion.

"He- He."

Tweek was trying to say something. Words, which disagreed with him on a regular basis, failed him altogether.

Craig didn't care. "What was that?"

"It."

Tweek stood up and picked up the drink that had only spilled a few drops into the grass underneath.

"Tweek-Tweek, what-"

No more acknowledgement went towards the boyfriend sputtering out his name. Tweek left through the doors Kenny had entered through, shoving shoulders with Clyde. The jock stumbled, looking back with as much confusion as the chullo-clad teen was.

The two of them sat under the tree in astonishment.

"Whats up with your bae, Craigster?"

"...I don't know."

"Well I wanna say I'm surprised." Clyde picked up one of the left behind drinks and took a large sip. He grimaced and tossed it. The way he had spoken made it seem there was more. But there wasn't. That or he had simply forgotten what he was going to say. Likely story.

Craig smashed his aching head onto his knees. The sun was too bright. Clyde was too loud. Even more so than usual.

Thoughts that had troubled his mall trip were returning.

The freckled blonds had looked like they had seen ghosts, whispers from the past, lost demons. Lost lovers. The teen's gut churned.

Was there a fling he had somehow missed?

Tweek never talked about his private life. But his private life had always been so entangled with Craig's, they'd never much needed to chat it out. With the way Tweek had treated public displays of affection, he could more than easily hide a relationship... And Kenny, despite being nothing but PDAs and TMIs, would so perfectly go along with that.

The teenager's mind was racing and he felt heat on his cheeks and a sinking feeling in his guts. His innards were going on an extended coffee break. Judging by the amount of caffeine he'd manage to chug down in the past few hours he wasn't surprised.

Clyde poked his shoulder and he almost punched him between the teeth his shit-eating grin.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"No."

"Wha-"

"Spew your beans somewhere else," Craig grumbled, standing up. Without any other words, he just left. No good-byes or waves. Left Clyde Donovan looking like he had been slapped in the face with absolute loathing. Something about the expression made Craig feel just a little better about his inner turmoil.

Stay dramatic, taco man.

* * *

By the end of the day, both boys had recovered. Craig had forgotten all about jealousy, regret, guilt, or Kenny ditching his fucking boyfriend at the mall. Classes brimming with hours and hours of ramblings sucked the concern from him. It wasn't much like him to linger on those feelings, anyways. He just assumed Tweek had gotten over himself. It seemed like it.

When a shaky blond hops into your car with a steal of a romcom-worthy kiss, things had better be looking up.

And they were.

They did.

Craig and Tweek were inseparable for the rest of the week. Whatever incident that had occurred between the resident playboy and barista was long forgotten. The care of the day was left on how perfect of a snatch one boyfriend was to the other. How Craig's face fit perfectly into Tweek's neck. How nice coffee tasted-"I think we've figured this flavor out. You can barely taste the nasty penny any more." Even though Craig's remarks had improved to smaller and smaller coins drenched in milk – it was progress. Everything was about these two boys and only them. Everything was peachy. How they had gotten so peachy so fast was beyond the chullo child. Up in space, dancing among the stars were his thoughts. All he scattered focus on were lips, freckles, arms, and a smile.

However, all good things must come to an end.

Which this inevitably did.

The ugly downfall began a few weeks down the line and it the entire affectionate ordeal started to become annoying.

Tweek was like a growth on Craig's side. Always there, always letting you know. They were dating - being near inseparable was natural but it didn't need to be a 24/7 thing. People needed their space. People meaning Craig Tucker who just wanted to lie in his own bedroom doing nothing with nobody. Sometimes a guy wanted to be alone.

Sometimes spending two weeks practically glued to your significant other wasn't wanted. It was never wanted in the first place, but instigated out of boyfriend obligations and all that. Craig needed space.

He decided to need space some other time. All the way up to three weeks from ditched outlet malls and spilled coffee, right in front of a fantastic movie about animals exploring the wilderness together. Watching the kitten and puppy on screen running about having fun was a mood lifter. A dearly needed one.

One that helped little when Tweek was still resting too close, fingers tighter than handcuffs on his wrist. Squared-off nails were digging into the skin of his wrist, coupled with the heat of the room making for an unpleasant prickle of a sensation. He moved them slightly and they got worse. The grip tightened with movement, and it was driving Craig up the wall, previous mood-lifter completely forgotten about.

Craig Tucker snapped. He wrenched his hand free. Perhaps a little more forcefully than intended.

"Du-Dude-" Tweek had already begun sitting up, eyebrows furrowing into worriment. It almost made the other stop where he was traveling at with full force. Almost.

"I think you're too clingy," Craig blurted out, not easing into the conversation with some lame metaphors about being the dog on-screen and Tweek being the cat, which had been fairly well thought-out for something contrived in under five seconds. He started to say something else but lost the train of thought behind it. It was difficult trying not to make Tweek too freaked out. "Like dude give me some space-" Oh he was ranting now but there was no stopping basically every single thought he'd had over the last few weeks compiled into one irritability-driven moment. "-You keep calling. You keep going with me everywhere. You didn't do this before."

"We weren't dating before." The unusual calm still of Tweek's voice was starting to become a more and more common occurrence. Was he expecting this confrontation?

Craig shook his head lightly at the tone, no matter how many times Tweek did it didn't change how unsettling it was.

"Okay but-"

"Things are going to be close."

Craig rolled his eyes.

"Not like. Conjoined twin syndrome close."

"We're dating."

"I heard you. Doesn't mean we need to be super cuddly all the damn time."

"Oh is being cuddly with Clyde too much?"

Craig narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What?"

Tweek took a deep breath. His pale freckled complexion was starting to lighten up. The still demeanor of his voice betraying his features. "Y-You're always with Clyde."

"Yes. We're friends."

"I don't like it."

Craig actually started laughing. "I don't care."

"YOU SHOULD!" The reddening blond flung to his feet, chest heaving. His voice was beginning to crack and join his flustered appearance. "Your time is supposed to be with me!"

"Oh!" Craig figured he might as well stand up too, make this a big show. Tweek was pulling out dumb theatrics. What was stopping them from both being assholes? Clyde was brought up, might as well honor his talent for needless drama, too. "Sorry I didn't realize this was the Tweek Show! The one with no commercials-can't switch the channel for a bit and check out what else is out there!" His hands came really close to tearing his own face off he was getting heated so fast. Or his hat at least. Was this was fighting with your boyfriend was like? Wanting to fling yourself into a wall? He was making Clyde proud at this rate.

Or was it just when it was over a stupid reason. "Was Kenny not cuddly enough for you? Is that it? Are you playing catch up?"

"Kenny?" Tweek looked suddenly very panicked. "W-What does K-Kenny have to do with this?"

"I fucking knew it."

Tweek was starting to breathe faster. Eyes turning into a ghastly white. "K-K-Knew what?"

"No wonder you're so. UGH." Craig threw his hands up. Like it was a real expression of description with physical form he could gesture with ease.

"Are you..." Tweek started to calm down, if the way his chest moving meant anything. The heaving was slowing. "I never dated K-Kenny."

"What?" Craig raised his eyebrows. He was now starting to freak out. All those looks. All that tension. Tweek didn't lie. He couldn't. He physically could not lie. "You-that's not important."

"It s-seemed like it-"

"IT ISN'T!"

Tweek jumped at the volume. Craig closed his eyes, mind racing with regret because he was so fucking tense over the thought he had Kenny McCormick to live up to. The resident bad boy, the playboy, the hot blond. The one guy you just couldn't top. Unless you had money. And now he was being told he didn't. He was alive. Guilt weaseled its way up to the surface over his own voice's racket and sprouted into worry all over Tweek. "I." He took a shaky sigh, fingers slowly brushing Tweek's cheeks.

"I just want some space."

Tweek gulped harshly and brought his own hands up to Craigs wrists as if to reinforce his point, "I just want to be close."

The fight was falling. Craig didn't have the heart to go on. Kenny was all that was fueling his rage and doubt and hate and comfort issues. The teen licked over his braces, took has hands off Tweek and slowly sat himself down. "I'm sorry." He took off his hat and ran his long digits through unruly black hair. "We're still working this out."

For a moment he was sure that wouldn't be enough. That Tweek would storm off and ditch him. Maybe even dump him on the spot. But the feeling was fleeting. Ruined by Tweek sitting down close to him, shockingly, and taking his hand. The odd steadiness of his voice was back again.

"I-It's okay. Intimacy isn't our thing."

"Well it is."

"Well you know what I mean."

Craig snorted, then sighed again as all his inner conflict over his expectations had apparently been over nothing, the bubbling rage had left. That was a good sign.

"I shouldn't be letting stupid stuff like this get in our way."

Tweek wrapped his arms around the lanky teen. His face dug into his chest and Craig's breath hitched.

"I won't let anything get in our way."

Craig smiled, hugging the boy clenching his waist tighter. He would tackle the space issue some other time.

"Nothing will, dork."

* * *

Craig Tucker rarely remembered dreams. The dreams he did have were timid, lame, boring. Guinea pigs in fields. Meteors in space. Texting people.

He didn't have reoccurring nightmares.

Falling asleep in Tweek's house was starting to become living hell. Something about the way his room was just brought out the murky anxiety. Subconsciously, of course. Craig would spend the night in it without a single hesitation, but something somewhere in the back of his mind was trying to flag his attention.

In this nightmare, the blurry figure in the dim room was back. The taste of bile was choking Craig, putrid against his teeth as if something bitter had been roughly shoved into his mouth, manipulating his tongue and causing him to gag. It had to be the same, the exact same vivid details snapping his senses awake. He felt a drowning sensation until his mouth was empty again and he could close it again without tasting his own stomach. His head was heavy and drowsy and eyelids weighed far too much and he was going to pass out. Be unconscious in the middle of this horrifying nightscape he couldn't seem to detach himself from. He was stuck to the bed.

His hand absently reached forward to paw at the intruder. Fingers brushed something so blurry color was gone, and then a cold touch of skin was against his. The sensation was so bright. Brighter still was a prick in his neck that made his eyes water. A bright white shard jamming itself into his neck for an instant, before breaking away into soundless invisible pieces.

Something was escaping him and it wasn't just consciousness, which was swaying behind his eyelids like it carried weight and every joint was heavy and his tunnel vision getting further away.

Wakefulness was wearing thin and the shadow leaned down. Craig gave in. His vision was knocked out. All nerve endings rolled to a stop. All that was left was a whisper before it all went blank again.

"___Nothing _will."

And Craig woke in a cold sweat, shaking and - And he felt tears on his face. He woke up crying and shaking. Shaking all over and rubbing his red eyes, alone in a bed at some hour in the morning, maybe afternoon. The light was dim enough to make out an outline of the room. His body hurt. His head hurt, feeling light. Dead. Like nothing was in there.

His neck hurt.

He grasped it tight, breathing quickly. Too quickly. Seconds more and he was going to pass out because everything was wrong and nothing was there and he was still shaking and alone and -

Alone.

Craig was alone.


End file.
